Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (9 page)

“Ick.” She plucked it off and
dropped it like it was road kill. “After you insulted me the other day you
think I’m going to let you touch me?”

“About that…”

“Yes, Floyd?” She waited, hands on
hips.

“I was rude.”

“You got that right.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was feeling
backed into a corner so I lashed out.”

“Whatever.” She glanced back at
the ring. The Stripper was performing his gyrations with more confidence than
before. He finished and was led to the turnbuckle by Sally and Suzy who
proceeded to tie him to a ring post and fight for him. He didn’t seem to mind.

Who was this guy? Earlier he’d
been petrified about stripping, seemed repulsed by the thought. But now? Now he
winked at the ladies in the front row, and it was everything security could do
to keep them from jumping the guardrails and ripping off what little clothes he
had on. The last time she’d seen him he was a completely different person.

A thought struck her. She looked
up at Floyd. “What did you do to him?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“When I left him earlier he wasn’t
like this.” She waved her hand toward the ring.

“What are you talking about?”

“The three of you were going into
the locker room when I was called away to help Oscar. Tell me what you said to
The Stripper that got him all jazzed up.”

“I told him you were a wild woman
in bed.” He winked.

Part of Sandy wished it were true.

“Shut up,” she said. “Tell me what
happened in the locker room.”

“Nothing happened. We told him he
did a good job.”

“And?”

“Okay, fine, maybe Rodger shared a
few pills with him.”

Her chest tightened. “What kind of
pills?”

“You know, the white ones you gave
us.”

She must have looked confused.

He leaned forward and whispered, “For
confidence?”

She bit back a smile. The boys
hadn’t a clue she’d been giving them an herbal supplement to boost their immune
system, not some form of steroids to build muscle. If the supplement
psychologically made them feel more confident then she’d done her job: kept
them safe and in the ring.

“Must have kicked in for The
Stripper.” Floyd nodded toward the ring.

Jason wiggled his hips and puckered
his lips. She burst out laughing.

“What?” Floyd asked. “Come on,
spill it.”

“I’m nuts, that’s all.”

“And a lesbian.” Missy sauntered
up to Floyd and looped her arm through his. “Stay away from my man. He’s not
gay.”

Sandy blinked. “Even if I were a
lesbian, I wouldn’t be after ... oh, never mind,” she said. Missy had the
brains of an ant.

Floyd led his Missy away, probably
hoping to avoid further conflict.

“Good job with The Stripper down
there,” he called over his shoulder. “You might have saved his career.”

Sandy glanced at The Stripper, who
probably would have taken off all his clothes by now if his wrists weren’t
bound to the ring post.

What a joke. She told the boys she
had access to a new drug, what she called a “confidence enhancer” and they’d
jumped at the chance to use it. Too bad they didn’t realize confidence came
from the inside. The power of the human spirit was amazing when tapped.

She leaned against the wall and
watched the match. Johnny told her to take a break from the constant flow of
injuries needing to be tended. She was glad she’d been able to help Oscar, a
special man who deserved better than what he got. He was a good family man, the
type of man she’d consider marrying ... if he weren’t a professional wrestler.

Hmm. Maybe she should make a list
of “perfect guy” qualities. That could be fun. Or depressing.

The crowd cheered, drawing her
attention to the ring. Atomic Bomb slid a metal folding chair under the ropes.
Sally grabbed it, wound up and—

Suzy nailed her from behind. Sandy
stood straight and watched the chair sail across the ring at Jason’s head, but
the idiot was too absorbed in preening to see it coming.

CRACK!

“Damn it!” She took off down the
steps and up the aisle, hurdling the guardrails. Security didn’t even try to stop
her.

“Son of a bitch!” She dove under
the bottom rope into the ring and kneeled beside him. He was out cold, sweat
beaded on his forehead.

“I need a backboard, a neck brace
and ice,” she ordered the ref.

He stared at her, probably because
racing into the ring was not something she did. Ever.

“Now!” she cried.

Ref Hooper snapped to it and
started waving his arms, sending signals to security.

It was the real thing this time,
not a phony ambulance call for a fake injury. And she’d left her pack in the
first aid room. Crap!

“Stripper, can you hear me?”

“Is he okay?” Sally asked.

“What the hell’s the matter with
you?” Sandy shouted at her over the crowd noise. “You threw it right at his
head.”

“I didn’t mean to. It slipped.”

“Where’s that backboard?” she cried.

Johnny came running down the ramp
with a backboard and two assistants. “How is he?”

“Unconscious. I told him, didn’t
I? I told Cosmo, I told Stripper, I told anyone who would listen that he
shouldn’t be out here again. I had a gut feeling but no one listened to me!”

Just like before with Duke, the
metal door, and the pile driver that condemned him to a wheelchair...

“It’s okay, kid. We’ll fix him.”
Johnny slid the backboard into the ring and they carefully strapped Jason down.
“Has he said anything?”

“No,” Sandy said.

“Keep trying. I’ll take his
vitals.”

“Should we get him out of here
first?” She hated real injuries being a part of the show. It felt sleazy.

“I need his vitals,” Johnny
insisted.

“Give me ice.” One of the security
guys gave Sandy an ice pack and she placed it on his head. He turned away.
“Stripper, can you hear me?”

He moaned.

“Jason?” she said.

He opened his eyes slightly. “Hi.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll come back,” he
mumbled.

Who was he talking about? He
hadn’t been in the ring with a man. “Jason, who am I?”

“What? Who are you?”

“My name, Jason. What’s my name?”

“Green eyes.” He reached out to
touch her face. She placed his hand gently on his chest.

“Do you know where you are?” she
urged.

He blinked and looked at the ceiling.

“Pills. Too many pills,” he said.

“What’s he talking about?” Johnny
said.

She put up her hand to silence
him.

“What pills? What did you take?”
she demanded.

“They gave me ... your pills.”

Johnny quirked an eyebrow.

“The boys gave him some of my magic
pills,” she explained.

“I hope that’s all he took.”

She glanced at Jason. His eyes
glazed over, changing color to a warm blue-green. She’d never seen that color
before. Damn it, if he was open to taking placebos from the boys, what else
would he risk taking just so he could strip? Talk about risking your life to
overcome your inhibitions.

“Let’s get him out of here,” she
said.

Johnny nodded. They slipped the
patient under the ropes and carried him up the ramp into the back.

She refused to believe she’d been
wrong about this guy, that Jason abused drugs and was so utterly careless about
his own well-being. Would he take anything offered? She knew there were a
variety of painkillers and other meds passed around on a regular basis. She
disapproved of it—all of it. If your body needed heavy-duty painkillers to feel
okay then you were not listening to it, and definitely not respecting it. The
body was a miraculous creation, but it was fragile, which is why she’d found
the herbal supplement. The boys felt more confident when they took it, but it
wouldn’t affect their body in a negative way. It was a win-win situation for
everyone.

She glanced at Jason, wishing she
knew what else he’d pumped into his body before stepping into the ring. She’d
seen it in his eyes earlier: a dazed expression that seemed out of character.

What made her an expert on this
man? He was a stranger. She knew nothing about him or what went on in his head.

“What happened?” Cosmo caught up
to them as they placed Jason onto a table in first aid.

Sandy grabbed a penlight from her
backpack. “Concussion.”

“We think,” Johnny said.

She looked at him. “He was hit in
the head with the steel folding chair. I’m putting my money on a concussion.”

“Do we need an ambulance?” Cosmo
asked.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“No,” Johnny said.

“When you two figure out what’s
going on, let me know.” Cosmo left the room.

Sandy didn’t break eye contact
with Johnny.

Gargoyle came into the room. “I
think I pulled a—”

“Wait outside,” Johnny said.
Gargoyle did as ordered.

“Look,” Johnny said, leaning over
the unconscious Stripper. “I know you feel you need to protect the boys, but I
see that look in your eyes. You’re starting your ‘savior’ thing with The
Stripper. Don’t. You don’t need the heartache, kid.”

“He’s a patient. He’s hurt. It’s
my job.” She sounded like a robot.

“Your job is to patch him up, not
to save his soul.”

But God, how she wanted to. She
wanted to save someone, damn it. She couldn’t help Duke or Dad when they’d
needed her the most. She sensed that The Stripper could be saved. Maybe it was the
ache in his eyes or the rumble of pain in his voice.

Snap out of it! Your job is to
protect all the boys in BAM.

Yet Cosmo wanted her to stick to
The Stripper like sweat after a workout, and that’s exactly what she’d do. So
what if Johnny thought romantic feelings were motivating her to save the guy?

“It’s a job,” Johnny said in that
fatherly tone. “That’s all.”

She glanced away, wondering if
Johnny knew her better than she knew herself. It had never been “just a job” to
her.

“Cosmo’s been in the hot seat
lately about the drug abuse at BAM,” Johnny spoke up. “We need to report this
to him.”

Her gaze shot to his eyes. “Report
what? That the boys gave Stripper some herbal supplements? We don’t know he
took anything else.”

“We suspect it. Cosmo needs to
know.”

“He’ll fire him.”

“Not our problem.”

The image of Jason and his sister
sleeping in a cardboard box on Lower Wacker Drive tangled her stomach in knots.
She was so tired of not being able to help people when they needed it the most.
So very tired.

“He needs this job,” she argued.
“Desperately.”

Johnny leaned back. “How do you
know that? You just met the guy.”

“He told me.”

“And Cody told you you’d be
married by the end of the year.”

She clenched her jaw.

“I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”
Johnny sighed and looked into her eyes. “Kid, I just can’t stand seeing you get
hurt.”

“I won’t. I know what I’m doing
this time. It’s not personal.”

“The hell it isn’t.” Johnny
stepped back, as if giving her full control of the situation. “Okay, what do
you want to do with this guy?”

“I’ll take him to the hospital.”

“His first night out and he’s
going to the hospital? Cosmo’s not going to be happy about his new boy being so
fragile.”

Then she got an idea, a way to
solve everyone’s problems.

“I’ll take him back to the hotel
with me.”

“Even better. People won’t think
you’re a lesbian, they’ll think you’re a pervert.” He tossed supplies into a duffle
bag and mumbled, “I can hear it now: she takes an unconscious man to her hotel
room for a little recreation. She’s got total control over him. Kinky,
perverted sex games!”

“I need to protect him.” And the
rest of the boys.

Johnny shook his head. “For once
would you think about protecting yourself?”

***

It was the fourth time she woke
him that he finally lost it.

“Damn it, woman, go home!” he
shouted.

She didn’t jump back, pout or cry.
She simply started up with more questions.

“Where did Cosmo find you?” she
asked.

“I’ve already told you that.”

“Tell me again.”

Now he felt like the suspect and
she, the cop. Is that what this was about? Unraveling the mystery of Jason
McBain, failed son, DEA agent and struggling stripper?

“Cosmo found me in a strip club.”
He laid his head back down and started to drift off.

“No sleeping till I’m done,” she
said. She pulled on his arm and sat him up. “Come on, time for a walk.”

“What? Are you nuts? It’s four in
the morning.” He pulled free of her.

“We’re only walking to the
balcony. Fresh air. It’ll clear your head.”

“My head needs sleep.”

“Why? What does it feel like?” Her
eyebrows knitted together with concern and she sat beside him on the bed. “Look
at me,” she said, studying his eyes, yet not really looking at him.

“Stop, I’m fine.” He whipped off
the sheets and grunted. Damn, he’d stripped down to his boxers. Or had she
stripped him down? This was getting worse by the minute.

“Need help?” she offered.

He turned to her a little too
fast, and gritted his teeth against the pain. “Stay there. Right there. Don’t
follow me, don’t hold my hand, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted, an odd
gesture from a woman like Sandy.

Ambling into the bathroom, he
struggled to remember what the hell happened tonight that landed him on his
back with Sandy in his hotel room, waking him, asking him questions. He shut
the door and splashed water on his face. Had someone figured out he wasn’t what
he seemed to be? That he was a cop out to bust them?

That deep down he was soulless,
like his father?